


And Then, Infinity

by Itar94



Series: The Thousandth Universe [a Building Neutron Stars au] [2]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alpha Rodney McKay, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe of an Alternate Universe, Angst, Character Death, Episode: s01e19 The Siege (1), Episode: s01e20 The Siege (2), Episode: s02e01 The Siege (3), Omega John Sheppard, Other characters mentioned - Freeform, Season/Series 01, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-23
Updated: 2014-03-29
Packaged: 2018-01-16 18:35:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1357705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Itar94/pseuds/Itar94
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is an infinite number of possible parallel universes. Dr Rodney McKay would seek to unravel each other of them if he could, (if he would one day construct that damned time-machine), if he was given the chance. Because Rodney McKay just can't let certain things go, and he never expects to be this intrigued by a total stranger.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

There is an infinite number of possible parallel universes. Dr Rodney McKay would seek to unravel each other of them if he could, (if he would one day construct that damned time-machine), if he was given the chance. In least one of them he ought to be able to, he figures (and this could be the one). 

But first: survival.

* * *

Atlantis is nearly sinking. Has sunken - but again, drowning. Not the way Rodney had thought he would die. The end. Oh god, he isn’t ready to die. His Nobels have not yet been won and there is so much he hasn’t discovered and he is in another galaxy, Earth beyond the sight of the naked eye, and these stars are new. The astrophysicist inside him soars.

The man seeking survival - not so much.

Why did he agree to come here?

* * *

The city rises.

(Three million lightyears away there is a soul that Rodney has never met and it’s slowly beginning to drown.)

* * *

Colonel Sumner is dead. Taken by aliens, along with some of the natives that Lieutenant Ford has brought back with him through the gate, an address to the unknown in his pocket. But they have no means to get there and no manpower to fight off an unknown enemy and the Athosians - as they call themselves (their homeworld now burning) - tell them with trembling voices about the Wraith. And they wonder why the Earthlings have come, why they don’t return home if the Wraith have never reached their planet.

So, no death by drowning then, Rodney summarizes in the gloom. He’s going to have life sucked out of him by freaking alien _vampires._

Oh god, _why_ did he come here?

It was Carson, that bastard, talking him into walking through the wormhole. And Weir and her stubbornness. Plus Zelenka, trying to outsmart him and show more courage and Rodney’s not going to let that happen (and god knows the disasters that would occur if he’d stayed behind and let _Kavanaugh_ take the reins). And Jackson, that damned archaeologist. He shouldn’t have let them convince him.

(Though, honestly, it was more the other way around - he’d fought to let them come here. Fought with numbers and physics and laws. Eventually he _had_ won.)

* * *

In the shockwave of General O’Neill’s sudden demise, Carson’s breakdown had quickly and inevitably followed. The omega had refused to listen to any words, that it wasn’t his fault, that he won’t be faced with a trial for manslaughter but the doctor backs off hours after the incident and says he can’t do this, he can’t work as a doctor now, he’s broken and Rodney’s found the closest friend he’s had for years in Carson and now he’s just not there anymore.

There’s some chaos at losing their intended chief of the medical department, and the strongest gene-carrier so far - but this young blonde fresh out of med-school is second on the list (Rodney doesn’t bother to remember names). Nervous as she is, she agrees to step through the gate with them. She’s helped Carson with the gene-therapy in the past, so Rodney hopes he’ll have that inoculation soon to wake his dormant ATA-gene which so stubbornly refuses to work for him. And a Captain Lorne is rapidly reassigned; apparently he’s a gene-carrier and though not that strong it’s at least _something_ , and they’re probably going to need it on the other side. If they get there.

There is chaos, but it works out, somehow. And they get their ZPM and go-ahead from General Hammond.

In the background as they dial, apprehension thrumming through his veins, Rodney catches a glimpse of Sam, all pale and still, hands knotted and eyes red. He never liked O’Neill that much and the feeling was mutual, but the two were close, he knows. He tries to say goodbye to her - Sam just shrugs him off in that manner to show that she still isn’t interested and she’s alpha not omega and he can’t trick her into _anything._ Not that he could have, even then; she’s far too smart for that. One of the few geniuses lingering on planet Earth.

Jackson might be there too to see them off but, well, Rodney pays him little mind.

* * *

(There had been a memorial service. He didn’t attend. He was too busy calculating the chances of surviving a trip to the Pegasus Galaxy and the chances of returning home to boast their discoveries. And it’s looking pretty slim.)

* * *

Elizabeth puts Major Lorne in charge of the military department. There’s a rescue attempt, once they figure out how to operate the small Gateships. They have a clever stealth mode, but it takes Lorne awhile to learn to fly it. And the address they’ve got leads to a space gate, so they _must_ fly, there is no other option. The hours trickle by.

By the time they get to the planet, it’s too late.

Sumner had tried to escape. To fight. But there are only corpses left when they get to the enemy’s underground base, half-buried in a hill. (Later they realize it was a ship, not a bunker. A ship that soon afterward takes off to begin culling worlds - one of many, _many_ more.) Ford and Lorne break in there, finding no survivors and only managing to get themselves caught instead.

Things could have turned out even worse but Ford manages to shoot the Queen in the head over and over until she falls with a cry, and they break out of there empty-handed.

* * *

The Wraith are waking.

This is very, very bad. Underlining the very.

* * *

Over time they do make some allies. Some are actually rather nice, for people suspicious of these aliens (because that is to them what the Tau’ri are). Then, some aren’t and people die and cannot be replaced. Some of the time Atlantis is rather safe, considering. Then, it really isn’t. Rodney recalls (still having vivid dreams about it) the nanovirus wreaking havoc on the city, killing two and nearly himself, just a few months ago. Lorne had managed to fix it eventually by overloading a naquadah generator and nearly killing himself but it was a solution. Clever, yes, but suddenly they’ve lost one of their power sources and they cannot regain that ever.

They search and search for ZPMs but they are about as easy to find as a needle in a proverbial haystack.

* * *

The Athosians are reluctant to trade with them, but Elizabeth managed to settle an agreement for food; a tiny part of their harvest, small amounts of whatever they hunt. No coffee, though. Sadly no such beans seem to exist in Pegasus and Rodney can’t find any reference of them in the stupidly unindexed Ancient database.

Coffee would be heaven-sent. (And an actual weapon against the Wraith, that would be good, too.)

* * *

There are an infinite number of possible universes. And there is one where Rodney never gets to meet Teyla Emmagan, and she never meets him or any other person from Earth and never finds that locket her father gave her before he died. There, the locket is never found again after she loses it at thirteen, when she’s playing in the old ruins with her brother, who dies much earlier in other universes and in some is never born at all. She never gets to see the spires of Atlantis.

And they do not know it, but it buys them some time - but not enough. Never enough. At one point or another, the Wraith will figure out that Atlantis is standing and they will come in greater numbers than they can imagine and they’ll be _so fucking screwed._

Rodney usually has nightmares. (He remembers few nights when he doesn’t.)

* * *

The Ancients seemed pretty awesome at a time before Rodney got to explore their lost city. But now, well, he isn’t so certain anymore that they weren’t just old and arrogant and unbelievably stupid in the end, because they got killed off by the Wraith. After nearly losing Stackhouse to an freaky alien bug, there’s speculation that the Ancients might even have made the Wraith - by mistake, by neglectfulness (who cares which?) - to begin with, and that is no comforting thought at all.

They did come up with some amazing things. They did, and many of their theories and discoveries were huge and remarkable and Rodney wishes he could know them all. But honestly the Ancients screwed up a lot too and there’s a whole line of abysmal failures as well on their record, and if he ever got to meet a live one Rodney isn’t sure if he’d begin with praising or yelling.

* * *

It’s been months now and it still gets bloody creepy at night.

* * *

The Genii hold them at gunpoint pretty much the moment they exit the Stargate. Only thanks to Elizabeth’s patience and clever negotiation skills do they manage to get out of there alive and with a sort-of-alliance. In exchange for food, they will lend technical assistance and medical supplies.

Rodney learns about this through the mission reports. It’s not like he’s on an offworld team, and that’s all right; he doesn’t have to run away from gunfire all day and it gives him time to figure out how screwed they are - no, wait, how to survive. That’s it. How to survive another day.

The Genii are building a-bombs. That’s nice for them, really, but Rodney _knows_ it’s going to fail because the Wraith will hardly allow their society to linger when it is growing in strength and making technical advancements. No, the Wraith don’t like that. Besides, there are too many hives for a coordinated attack and their bombs aren’t even ready prototypes. They do not have the decade they had hoped for to perfect them.

* * *

Atlantis has no shields. In short, they’re doomed and soon they will die, it is a matter of time - days, hours, weeks. They could appear all of a sudden and Rodney knows they can put up no kind of decent fight and then, they’ll have to resort to destroying this beautiful place anyway and never find out all of his secrets and the thought pisses Rodney off mightily.

So much for finding wondrous things in another galaxy. Mostly they’re just hunted and shot at, and that’s on the _good_ days.

* * *

Of course, it turns out, the Genii are back-stabbing selfish bastards. They nearly lose the city to both them and the storm.

Elizabeth almost dies that day and Rodney’s never been in this much physical pain before, a knife pressed to his throat - but Ford and Lorne manage to arrive, eventually, in time. Just in time; they’ve been hiding in the outskirts of the city devising a plan, unable to call for reinforcements because there are none. (There’s no on the mainland - there never has been.) Acastus Kolya falls dead by a bullet from Ford’s P90, blood splattering onto the floor of the gate room, his men scattered or fleeing, when lightning strikes. (And there is a man named Ladon Radim who dies that day too and no one will remember his name because in this universe he never manages to make himself known.)

* * *

They never really get around to cleaning up the flooded areas in the weeks afterwards. It will continue to be a damn mess for months and months, but these areas are not as important and it’s not like they’re lacking space otherwise, with Atlantis being roughly the size of Manhattan. Slowly, the city attempts to drain the water away, but most of the time it’s not working.

It may be starting to sink again.

* * *

They find a world that actually hasn’t been blown to bits yet and yet is rather advanced, something 1930’s Rodney guesses from the imagery sent back. They fight, openly at that. They seek out the Wraith for raids and night ops. Elizabeth is quick to establish contact with them. Of course, they’re very paranoid the lot of them and honestly who can blame them? Paranoid and arrogant, but brave, extremely brave or just crazy. But they haven’t split the atom yet, which is somewhat of a comfort.

Hopefully the Satedans will turn out to be more honest than the Genii. They could use an ally with guns, not bows and arrows.

* * *

Really, Rodney figures, he should have stayed on Earth with his cat. He’s not good at this kind of thing. He doesn’t want to die the horribly painful death that surely is to come - that will come one day soon and they cannot stop it, because the enemy has sixty hive ships out there and the knowledge of Atlantis and soon they will arrive. It is only a matter of time.

* * *

They come across a planet that the Ancients called Hoff and they seeded life there long ago, but now they find only a bombed ghost town and no survivors. The reports states the world’s architecture looked rather advanced, post-industrial, pre-atomic probably. It seemed they had been thriving, taking two steps forward at the time compared to all the primitive tribes they’ve run across.

Of course the Wraith couldn’t have that.

(They find the empty ruins of what once was a vast archive, a library of knowledge generations past. And it’s all gone now, no one left to pick up the pieces.)

* * *

 _The first time_ , the ten thousand year old woman from the stasis chamber tells them with a raspy voice; _the first time, there was no failsafe._

The first time, the city never rose from the ocean. No one except her, by chance, would live long enough to tell the tale but she managed to escape in a strange small ship like their Gateships (but she never got to realize their names) along with Zelenka of all people but there was a crash then, later, and she never saw him after awakening among the Ancients ten thousand years prior.

But before that there was chaos. Her heart monitor steadily indicating a quickening, weakening pulse, the old Elizabeth tells them of bodies never to be recovered as the shield failed, swiftly and inevitably, the tall towers of the city crushed. Within minutes of stepping inside Atlantis half of them were dead and the other half trapped and no one knew where to find any doors and they couldn’t use the Stargate, because they had no power and the gate room was already flooding. There was nowhere to go.

The first time, Rodney drowns.

* * *

 _Oh thank god this is the second time!_ he thinks, sweet relief spreading through his veins rapidly; _this is the second time and we’re alive!_

He’s never liked the thought of death by drowning (or sudden decompression, or asphyxia - it’s a personal thing). This is the second time. This time he’s alive.

But there was a man who isn’t here now and the old Elizabeth glances around the infirmary with bleary, glassy eyes, asking for a guy named Shepherd or a variation thereof. There’s no one here by that name and when they tell her this, she looks confused and lost and says, quietly before she goes to sleep; “Then maybe he’s still alive here.”

And cold dread like ice settles at the bottom of Rodney’s stomach. It may be the second time but they’re going to face death by Wraith hands and spaceships and no one back on Earth will ever get to know.

 _Maybe he’s still alive here,_ she’d said, probably meaning: _maybe he’s on Earth this time around, unaware of Stargates._ Bitter not-quite-envy coils through Rodney at the thought. At least that guy, whoever he is, is going to survive, the lucky bastard, while they’re stuck in Pegasus waiting for the inevitable.

The second time, Rodney is waiting for the self-destruct.

* * *

A few days later, Elizabeth spreads the ashes of a time traveller to the Lantean wind.

* * *

They seek out the planets on the hand-scrawled list they’d gained from her. One of those planets they’ve already been to and found nothing on. They go to the second, but that planet is crawling with Wraith and they cannot risk seeking an abandoned Ancient outpost in the deep jungle. The third - well, they seemed all right at first, that Brotherhood, until they do find a ZPM. It’s at least half-full Rodney figures, whooping with joy and relief - _finally!_ Maybe they can get the shield powered up after all and not face a horribly painful death in the near future.

And then those backwards people who could have no possible use of it _whatsoever_ declare it holy and rips it from their dirty hands. _Backstabbing bastards the lot of them,_ Rodney swears loudly as they’re forced through the gate empty-handed.

Upon returning to Atlantis, they find out that Sergeant Bates and some marine with the ATA-gene (someone that Rodney can’t remember the name of) are dead, a Wraith dart having scanned the city and self-destructed. The jumper was caught in the blast.

* * *

They have two weeks until the hives arrive.

They are so, so fucking screwed, Rodney loudly reminds everybody for the hundred and fifth time. They try to make plans, search for viable alpha-sites that are uninhabited, far away from Wraith territory, far away from the blast. From there, there’s no way home. But at least they may survive a bit longer and with Atlantis in ruins the Wraith will not be able to get to Earth, and billions of lives with be spared.

They do manage to send a message finally: a cry, a plead from three million lightyears away, though they risk never being heard. Rodney’s pretty willing to take that chance anyway.

* * *

He hadn’t included much in his personal message. Or, well. All right, he had. Included a lot actually. There was a lot of rambling and he’d included as much of his deeds and findings as he could, every inch of his research and data. But back on Earth there is no one waiting for him; his cat is surely dead by now and he hasn’t spoken with his sister for years. In Pegasus he cannot win his Nobel. He doesn’t say goodbye or anything stupidly sentimental like that, no, he leaves that to Elizabeth and the others to take care of.

But he does add (at the end of the compressed file so that in case the wormhole shuts down a little too early it won’t really matter):

“And you can send this part to Jeannie Miller. Because, um - yeah, hi by the way. It’s your brother. Obviously. Um, look, I know we never got along and you maybe hate me and that’s okay, I am used to people hating me. But if I survive the oncoming catastrophe I might, you know - someday, if it’s possible - give a call. I. I mean, I’m still your brother, and a lot of things happened this year that’s changed me. And we’re sort of facing utter doom here, the ending of the world but don’t worry it’s not the end of Earth! Well. I hope. It shouldn’t be. Eventually it might ... err but. Don’t worry about that, it’ll get sorted. Anyway I just - I guess I wanted to say I’m sorry.”


	2. Chapter 2

There is an infinite number of possible parallel universes. In too many of those no one ever hears the plead for aid and no help is ever sent and there are no survivors on Atlantis, but by the time the people of Earth find that out the Wraith have reached the Milky Way and it’s far, far too late. 

(In some universes there are no Wraith.)

* * *

Rodney has seen corpses of Wraith before, taken back to the medical labs to be examined for some kind of weakness (sadly those have not yet been found). But the first time he sees a live one, Peter Grodin is dead and the Ancient Satellite blown to pieces before they got it operational and three giant hive ships are bearing down on the city.

One has beamed himself down into the outskirts of the city, lingering there for days and days; the one from the dart that scanned them. It takes a while to find it and to stop it from sabotaging more than it already has. Half-dead but still breathing, hissing threats as it glares at them, the Wraith is dragged to the cells in the lower levels of the city, and Rodney sees it from the corner of his eyes, gulping, _Oh god, it was here all the while and it could have sucked the life out of me while I slept._

* * *

They have no shields. They have no guns. The self-destruct is commencing (two hours, fifty-eight minutes and four seconds left) and he’s just started dialling the alpha site (from where they can never ever reach home again) - when then. Suddenly. There’s a dial-up.

Someone has heard their desperate cry.

Marines well out of the Gate, carrying crates and boxes with ammunition and these men and women have never seen a Wraith, and Rodney wonders what the hell they’re doing here. If he should rejoice or despair because despite their many guns, that is no match against three fucking alien _spaceships_ probably armed to the teeth. Elizabeth stumbles down the steps, Rodney on her heels, and meeting them half-way is a stern-faced grey-haired alpha in uniform. He salutes stiffly, proudly, looking around the gate room as if he’s pleased and doom isn’t upon them. Colonel Everett, apparently, and they are here to save Atlantis, keeping the city afloat until the Daedalus arrives with a ZPM to power the shield. 

 _Just four days,_ the man says - four days is all they need, then she’ll get here and things will be sorted.

Obviously this is a very stupid idea and no one has realized it yet and Rodney glowers at the dimwitted marine. Three ships today, yes, but tomorrow more will come and they have dozen more and even if they somehow miraculously win this first battle, they’ll keep coming. The Wraith will keep coming. That is how the Ancients lost the war after all: they won the battles, but could not outlast the siege, in the end. 

Oh god, they’re so fucking screwed.

* * *

(Did his sister get that message? He half-hopes, half-fears that she never will. He said so many stupid things; he’s not sure that’s what he wants her to remember about him. On the other hand, he doesn’t want to die with her hate burning for him either. Not really.)

* * *

“Four days. That isn’t possible, Colonel. We haven’t got the firepower; there’s a chair but we have no means to power it, and only a medical doctor who can’t operate it because last time that happened people _died_ \- the _wrong_ people,” he adds, remembering Carson breaking down in despair when the announcement came; _The General didn’t make it (there’s nothing left)._

But the Colonel insists, “No, Dr McKay. We have a naquadah generator with us that should do the trick. Lieutenant Shepherd!”

And suddenly a man who’s been slouching in the background steps up, back straight and tense in attention. His face is difficult to read. He emits no scent; beta, then. What’s so special about him? Rodney frowns, as the Colonel goes on, “Dr McKay, I want you to show the Lieutenant to the Control Chair immediately,” the Colonel orders with no room left over for questions.

And then he understands. This guy, whatever his name now was, has the gene. He has the gene. And they can power the Chair now.

They could survive. Albeit statistically the chances are still below zero, but, still - they could actually _survive this!_

* * *

The city responds to the gene therapy and it responds to Major Lorne and the other few weak natural carries; Rodney has seen that. But he’s never seen the lights in the corridors glow so bright and they never flicker, like they sometimes would. The city is - humming; yes, that’s the only word for it. Humming contently as the guy (what was his name again?) walks quietly along, heavily issue military boots creaking ever so slightly, following the path Rodney has set. His eyes are watchful, curious, calculating. There is a coldness also behind the hazel irises that causes Rodney to shiver uncomfortably.

It is not a harsh coldness like with Colonel Everett. It’s not a gaze meant to kill. Rather, it’s distant as if part of his soul really isn’t there. Like something’s broken (a piece of machinery with cut-off wires, no spare parts lying around). But Rodney isn’t a physiologist and he has no interest in delving in the mental state of this stranger. The man doesn’t speak, and Rodney proceeds to ignore him (and crush that flame of envy of his gene) in order to argue numbers with Zelenka who _of course_ has to find something to argue about while Rodney is pretty sure his calculations are wholly sound.

* * *

It takes two long fucking hours to fix it, because the Chair isn’t meant to be wired to an Earthmade naquadah generator, even if it has been improved to output six hundred percent more power than normally. But once the crystals in the back start to glow and the screens read green, Rodney lets out a breath of relief and then, standing up in a flurry, gestures for the guy - who’s apparently stayed to guard the door or whatever, _still not talking_ \- to sit.

There’s still a forty-eight point six percent chance that it will go to hell and the generator will blow, since it’s got to be kept on a steady level of overload. And if that happens not much will be left of this tower.

And the man approaches, never taking his eyes off the Chair (what had the Colonel said now again? Yeah - _He was just found,_ that was it; _never seen the one in Antarctica or tested it so it’s a risky bet, but the only one we’ve got_ ) and then he sits back, wild black hair pressed against the cool blue surface, and the everything glows and hums. A map of stars spread overhead, the Pegasus galaxy and possibly beyond and the man, eyes slightly wide, takes a breath. Then there’s a zoomed-in view of the planet, of Lantea, and there -

\- there, ships are swarming the sky. Three hives and hundreds of darts and dozens of cruises. It’s bad. Really, really bad. The city looks so tiny and frail on the illusion of an ocean surface.

 _Oh please, I don’t want to die,_ Rodney whispers to himself but _this is it_. They don’t know how many drones there are left - for all they know the Ancients could have cleaned out the deposits before evacuating the city, in which case all they can do is sit here and wait and watch this pretty display of lights, a real-time mirror of the battle approaching. This is it.

_I don’t want to die._

* * *

The Lieutenant lingers in the Chair for hours and hours. Far overhead Rodney can hear explosions and distant whines of foreign engines. Drones are launched, dozens and dozens and dozens. He’s never seen this kind of control before. The man is breathing very slowly, eyes tightly closed. With that frown marring his handsome face he looks years older than he probably is, and he looks tired - he looked tired, in a way, before they even got to the Chair room, Rodney briefly reflects. There are shadows hollowing his face making it appear sharp and dangerous and drained like a desert well.

At one point, sweat on his brow, it looks like the man’s going to pass out and they can’t have that because they need that Chair in the next attack wave, so Rodney yells at Zelenka to find some water or something and get the idiot off it before he keels over. The idiot refuses to eat anything but does take a few sips of water and then he’s back again, hands clenching the armrests. Rodney’s sunken down in front one of the computer screens, scanning the data, regulating the generator carefully. They’re lucky it hasn’t died or exploded on them yet.

A breather would be nice. The air in the room is stifled and tense and far too warm. What he wouldn’t do for some proper hot coffee and a big nice sandwich and a soft bed. For an ending to arrive.

Just a few more hours.

* * *

Then the second wave starts and they’ve barely recovered from the first. Rodney tries radioing Elizabeth to get some status updates, but she’s gone to negotiate with the Genii for a couple of a-bombs (which is hopeless and stupid and, god, she is stubborn and brave; he wishes he could be brave like that sometimes). That leaves a disgruntled Colonel to seek answers from and the man is not responding.

There are Wraith swarming the city.

Two marines are vigilantly guarding the door. They can’t let the Wraith get to the Chair room; it has to hold, like the gate room, until the Daedalus arrives. It has to hold.

* * *

Soon they’ll be here. Soon they’ll come. Soon they’ll be rescued.

Rodney holds onto that thought like a lifeline.

* * *

Once the Daedalus arrives, Rodney nearly lets himself fall asleep, energy slipping from his body like grains of sand from an open palm. But there’s a ZPM for him to install and a shield to get online, and the Lieutenant the Chair is pale and shaking and maybe half-dead from exhaustion, so Rodney can’t succumb. Two Gateships are lost forever but two hives are down too, and that’s something.

They’re still breathing, if barely.

(He’s pretty sure Colonel Everett is dead - he’s been out of contact for too long.)

The self-destruct trick works against all odds.

* * *

When they try to snap the Lieutenant out of it, he reacts dangerously swiftly, eyes opening and hands seeking the P90 resting against his chest - and Rodney backs off, hands raised in a universal sign of peace. At seeing not an enemy but the scientist standing by his feet, the man frowns, it’s almost a glare. Okay, he’s snappy; not good. Rodney doesn’t really need to get shot in thanks for powering the Chair or anything.

Then, the man takes a deep shuddering breath, asking, voice raspy, “It’s over?”

And Rodney nods _\- Yeah. It’s over._

(But not quite.)


	3. Chapter 3

In some universes they never find a ZPM in Egypt in time. In others the Daedalus is not completely constructed in time to send her to Pegasus. 

In all of those, Atlantis’ self-destruct was never fake.

* * *

Rodney has met Colonel Sobel before, briefly, back on Earth. The alpha’s ship hadn’t been finished then, most parts of it still existing only as blueprints, and now the engines are apparently intergalactic. Elizabeth, looking just as exhausted as Rodney feels, thanks her over and over for pushing the engines so hard; without them they’d not be alive right now. But this is not the end.

There is so much to do now that the hive ships are gone. The clean up is almost worse than the battle itself; they have a shield now, a steady bubble around them, but they still got a few scattered Wraith out there in the city. Teams are sent out to take them out and retrieve survivors. The infirmary is quickly filled and all wounded that can fit there are beamed onto the Daedalus; everyone, in short, is very very busy and Rodney can’t find time yet to crawl up in bed with that lovely sandwich he’s dreamed about.

* * *

Like too many others, Colonel Everett is found fed upon, the dog tags the only thing left of him to be identified. And Rodney never liked the guy but now he’s dead - so many are dead. (Hours before the faked self-destruct and the Daedalus’ rescue, Sergeant Bates is lost to a culling beam and never rematerialized again because the dart that took him and his squad crashes into one of the city’s towers.) By some stroke of luck, Lieutenant Ford is alive but just barely, caught at the edge of a grenade blast as they’d tried overpowering a Wraith ambush in the south section of the city, and there is no guarantee he’ll ever walk again.

Everyone is scattered and lost and they try not to show panic and fear, but, yeah, they survived this round. And the Wraith do think Atlantis is destroyed. But there are still nearly sixty hives out there scourging the galaxy, and nowhere they go will be safe.

(Rodney’s pretty sure the Wraith haven’t forgotten about Earth. They’ll only try to find some other way to get there. This has only bought them some more time.)

When all is done and the losses numbered, the victory feels rather bleak and bitter.

* * *

They figure that those lonely dots in the outskirts of the city must be Wraith, because everyone has been ordered to stay in groups and near the central spire. But there is a solitary life-sign by one of the piers; it got there quickly, appearing suddenly so it must have used a transport or somehow beamed in and it cannot be anyone from the Daedalus. Thus, Wraith. Which is bad.

Major Lorne is leading a team in that direction, guided via radio from the control room, and Rodney isn’t particularly intrigued by the cat-mouse chase until the little dot leaves the pier and enters the ocean. A wounded Wraith? It can’t possibly survive a fall into the ocean, vampire alien or no, and the search is almost called off then. 

But Rodney’s got an odd gut feeling and, though he’s always preferred intellect over intuition, he obeys that feeling and quickly recalibrates the sensors. To his surprise it shows that the person who just fell has got a subcutaneous transmitter, as is issued all personnel of the SGC, regardless of rank.

And Rodney just groans, _Crap. Just what we need._

* * *

One more person dying. They’ve lost so many already. They lost Grodin on that damned satellite. They’ve lost god knows how many soldiers today to the Wraith. And if he can help them save this person, Rodney thinks, maybe (possibly, hopefully) he can sleep well tonight after all.

* * *

The Daedalus beams the figure right to the Atlantis infirmary, where there are marines on stand by, weapons raised just in case. And now oddly intrigued Rodney finds himself there, glancing around the room and its beeping machines in boredom waiting for the figure to materialize.

The bright light blinds them for point three seconds.

Then it clears and it’s that Lieutenant (Rodney _still_ can’t recall his damned name) and he’s wet and ragged and utterly still. There is no blood, no Wraith hand attached to his chest, but he’s been in that water for minutes and each second has been too long. Dr Keller kneels beside him, crying orders at her staff, checking for a pulse. There’s none and Rodney winces when the CPR starts and there’s the faint crack of a rib breaking but at least that means she’s doing it right.

Then.

A ragged unwilling breath. The doctor helps the man cough up water, though he doesn’t regain full consciousness and his eyes roll back into his head before he can utter any sound. Maybe he’s some kind of idiot, Rodney thinks, who got himself lost and tripped over the rail of a balcony, and he’d better be grateful they spotted him in time. A dead man is of no use to anyone.

There are no signs of bullets or wounds but perhaps he was hit by a stunner; that leaves no marks other than a trace of shock and that could be the water itself, icy cold this time of year. They cannot be sure until he wakes up and can be questioned, and he remains asleep the rest of the day and the next. Keller has many other patients but does take some tests that night, to make sure.

Rodney doesn’t hear of this until many hours later when the results get back and he’s has just started sleeping well again, without nightmares.

* * *

A couple of days pass by and Rodney nearly forgets about the man entirely, until, then, Keller walks in on the conference being held with Colonel Sobel, Elizabeth and Rodney. They are discussing a return to Earth because via the Daedalus they could be back within a month, but Weir is torn because she has fought tooth and nail to get here and there is a risk they want to replace her or quit the Atlantis mission altogether when facing the threat of the Wraith.

There are no guarantees of a return.

“Yes, doctor?” Elizabeth asks, surprised, and then her face sobers - and she thinks what they’re all thinking, that someone else has just died.

“I found something I think you’ll want to know.” A datapad is handed over, and Elizabeth skims over the content and Rodney shifts impatiently because is it important? does it concern their general survival? _hello?_

She doesn’t let anyone else see, lifting sharp eyes to the doctor, who nods silently and Sobel leans forward, bracing herself on her forearms. “Is there something we should know, doctors?” she asks before Rodney has a chance to.

“Not - not at the moment,” Elizabeth says and that slight hesitation shows that she has been thrown by whatever was on that tablet. “It does not concern the matters of this meeting. It’s something I must discuss in private first.”

Keller nods. “I’ll let you know when he’s awake.”

Wait? What? Awake? Who? - Oh. A patient then. And maybe it’s about that man ( _why_ can’t he remember his name? though it’s probably not that important) who nearly drowned.

 _Very interesting, sure,_ Rodney thinks sarcastically and rolls his eyes. “Well, I’m sure we’re all very fascinated,” he says loudly. “But could you please get out now so we can get back to - whatever we were talking about? Unless you have something to add that concerns our immediate survival because, as you know, I’m very fond of living.”

* * *

For a moment he remembers what that old Elizabeth had said. And his name ... always slipping from his mind, like it doesn’t want to be grasped.

Didn’t she ask for a Shepherd? And he wasn’t there, the second time. The first time, the lucky bastard didn’t drown; and now he was nearly lost to the ocean the second time instead, and Rodney can almost, cruelly enough, find that irony amusing. But just almost. There’s been too much destruction around him for the past few days for him to laugh.

 _Maybe he’s still alive here_ , she’d murmured almost relieved because she’d had no desire to witness his death a second time. Well, Rodney has no desire to witness anyone die a _first_ time.

* * *

(How utterly ironic if it _is_ him.)

* * *

Elizabeth refuses to tell him anything and refuses him to let a look at that datapad. And it’s not just her usual stubbornness, the kind of patience slowly running out in annoyance at his persistence at trying a new experiment or exploring an unknown part of the city. 

This is new. This concerns something that they’ve never argued about before, and it shouldn’t concern him, really, but there’s just something intriguing about a guy who was unknown until a few weeks ago and then turns up with the gene and powers the Chair to save their asses. There is something remarkable about all that. Something statistically impossible. He’s sure if the guy was well known Rodney had been aware of it, because the SGC would hardly keep a gene-carrier a secret from one of their top scientists.

* * *

Of course, he cannot help himself from investigating.

It starts - not really, it more like ends here - but, well, it starts with the transmission sent back to Earth. Again they had compressed it like last time, and reports of the battle had been included, numbers and data and the count of the dead. But also personal messages to be sent as emails to families and condolences to survivors.

He’s got a name; Shepherd or some variation thereof. (In his head, echoing, he hears the time-travelling Elizabeth quietly asking: _Where is he? Did he survive?_ ) And true enough, in that databurst, hidden away among important mission reports and the odd emails to family and friends to tell them that they’re still alive (without revealing aliens or other galaxies or anything else classified), there is a message for a Mr. Dave Sheppard from a Lt. John Sheppard. And Rodney wonders; is it a father, a brother, a lover?

* * *

It reads:

_I was happy, Dave. I found happiness. And I’m sorry. (PS. Tell dad he’s an asshole. But maybe he was right, after all.)_

* * *

There is no signed name at the bottom but the addresses give it away. It’s strange because after surviving a siege Rodney imagines people would send words like, _I’m OK, we’re alive_ , stuff like that, and there’d be relief and joy and hope of meeting again.

This letter is angry and distant and hurt. This is not a joyful letter, Rodney can tell, a sudden unexpected bitterness rising to his mouth when he repeats the words: _I was happy._ This letter was meant to be bittersweet.

* * *

A bit like a goodbye.

_Oh god._

* * *

He’s never invested himself in the personal live of someone else before. Certainly not a stranger. This - this is frightening, how his head and heart both refuse to let this matter go.

(There’s a law of mutual attraction and Rodney has all the physics figured out in his head. But he just cannot make sense of this theory.)

* * *

“Elizabeth, have you seen -”

“Rodney, I can’t tell you, this is confidential and hardly -”

“Just, hang on. Have you _seen_ this?” And he shoves the message into her hands.

Still not letting anything be given away, her expression grows stern. “Rodney,” she says, “for the peace of mind, please do not get involved in this.”

* * *

_As if._

* * *

Next evening an alarm goes off in his head and it’s just a gut feeling and he’s never been an instinctual man, favouring his intellect. But he looks over the city’s sensors again anyway, if nothing but to soothe that emotion.

There’s a lonely white dot at that pier again. So close to the edge. And this is a stranger and Rodney has never cared for strangers before but, god, oh god, he’s going to jump - and Rodney doesn’t think, just _reacts_ , yelling at Elizabeth that _We’ve got to stop him!_ and she looks confused at the broken sentence as the alpha rushes out of the room toward the nearest transporter.


End file.
